My new baseball nemesis is this fat fuck Joba Chamberlain. He played an important role in the Red Sox getting swept in an utterly painful series between them and the Yanks this week. A series in which Daisuke Matsuzaka, aka Sir Dice-A-Lot, was left in the game too long and gave up a 2-run homer to Johnny “F-ing Traitor” Damon, and Chien-Ming Wang, aka the Wonger, pitched a no-hitter until the seventh inning last night.

My real problem with Joba, however, is his ritual before taking the mound. He takes a moment, and he PRAYS. Please bear in mind that I have no quibble with prayer. None. Zilch. But if you wanna pray, please don’t stop the game only to display how down you are with Jesus while the cameras are rolling.

You know that long-ass run that relief pitchers in most ballparks have to make, usually to the tune of G’N'R or Metallica or something heavy? That is a wonderful time for a private communion with God. Or, how about when they call you from the dugout phone and you’re still in the bullpen? Isn’t God supposed to be like really good WiFi–with Him, you get a signal anywhere?